


Lapis Lazuli

by AntaresPromise



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, Fantasy AU, M/M, Reincarnation, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-22 23:30:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntaresPromise/pseuds/AntaresPromise
Summary: "What do you wish for, Yuuri?""To be reborn not as the Wizard or the King, but to be ordinary with you."





	Lapis Lazuli

Yuuri’s black cloak fluttered in the storm. “I’m sorry I failed you as the Wizard, and from keeping the demons away.”  
  
“Please, Yuuri, before I turn into a monster, end my life while I am still me,” Violet veins slithered higher on Victor’s arm as he pleaded, “I only want you to do it.”   
  
“No,” Yuuri’s voice broke when he realized Victor offered his own body to the demon king. The clanking of metal, singeing flesh, and raucous howls faded into the distance. 

Victor let out a chuckle, “Yuuri, do you remember the prophecy when I was born?”  
  
Yuuri’s eyes widened.  
  
_ Prince Victor shall die by the hands of his beloved. _  
  
The stolen glances, the ghost of the lingering touches, the heart-shaped private smiles: everything coalesced into clarity like a pebble breaking the surface of a crystalline lake. Shivers ran down Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri cursed his own hesitancy in suppressing his impulses to pin the prince against a wall and kiss him as if the world was ending. Instead, he left a lapis lazuli on Victor’s desk when nobody was watching. 

“Victor, I-” Yuuri’s throat was parched. 

The pressure of Victor’s warm fingertip gentle against Yuuri’s lip. “Tell me when we meet again.” His eyes flickered red from the fury of the Demon King trapped within his body unable to escape. 

The world before Yuuri faded into a hot blur as he tugged on the invisible tendrils of magic and weaved them into a vine. 

“I will find you, for as many lifetimes as it takes,” Yuuri whispered as the thorn pierced through Victor’s back. Blood painted the lapis lazuli Victor wore next to his heart. 

* * *

The Kingdom crumbled. The sky rained ashes for months. 

Accused of being a half-demon and on tried as the Prince’s murder, the Council announced for Yuuri’s death sentence to be carried out at dawn. 

As his final request, bound by demon manacles suppressing every trace of magic, Yuuri returned to the place where Victor fell. 

“Please, loosen one manacle, I want to leave him a flower.” Yuuri refused to beg, his tattered black cloak fluttering like feathers. 

“Demon, I will not listen to your lies,” the guard spat, then he froze like a rat before a bird of prey. 

Dark brows furling, General Chulanont unmounted from his horse and barked, “The keys, now!”

The guard’s lips trembled as he rummaged through his robes with callused hands and dirt-caked nails. 

Phichit snatched the ring with dark keys laced in pulsating crimson threads of magic. 

With a clank, one manacle fell. 

Yuuri bowed at his best friend for this final act of kindness. 

Phichit would betray the Kingdom to set him free, but they both knew Yuuri had no intention of escaping. 

The guards gasped and scampered back at the sight of the unbound hand of the Wizard: the most powerful mage who only answered to the King. 

Yuuri conjured a blue rose from nothing. 

Azure flames erupted from his hands, engulfing him until his human form no longer existed. Yuuri rose into the grey clouds, his wings darker than tar, his cloak crumbled onto the ground. 

Phichit watched the crow disappear into the sky. 

* * *

One hundred grey winters turned into spring. The farmers’ eyes lifeless because the harvest from the previous year couldn’t last through the winter. They resorted to boiling shoes and eating tree bark, and stripping the barren branches of dried berries.   
The battle between the mages and demons raged on once more. 

In the forest, Yuuri waited for the rebirth of his prince to relight the embers of the dying kingdom. 

* * *

Another hundred years passed...

“The demon king is dead.”

King Victor’s study filled with deafening silence as all eyes transfixed on the messenger.

“Good, maybe we can gather all of our forces, and eradicate them all,” Yuri Plisetsky’s fist slammed on the marble table sending parchment flying. The constellations on the lining of his Wizard’s robe gleamed in the dim light of one hundred dying candles. 

Half of the room scoffed, the other half murmured in agreement. 

“Which means Mila Babicheva is now the demon empress.” All eyes turned to Yakov, the general with few words. “Our spies reported her father locked her in the dungeons for suggesting negotiations with us to end this war.” His face, weathered by war, softened into one thousand lines. 

“Never trust a demon, you of all people should know better than that,” Yuri’s nails left marks on his own palm. 

“Enough,” the room stirred as all eyes transfixed on Victor. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow.” He needed space. 

He needed time alone to think. 

Victor needed his feathered companion now more than ever before. 

Victor retreated to his bedchamber where the crow waited. The side of his head throbbed as if trying to remember something important. 

For five years the crow fluttered into his window bearing gifts: feathers, stones, always the same shade of blue. 

“Good afternoon Yuuri,” Victor ruffled his hair like the stars as Yuuri dropped a lapis lazuli onto his lap. 

He had always known the bird’s name. Yuuri. There could be no other. 

“The demon king is dead,” Victor turned the stone over, mesmerized by its piercing shade, making the beauty of diamonds seem cheap. 

Yuuri tilted his head and hopped onto Victor’s inviting wrist. 

Comforted by Yuuri’s warm weight and sharp claws, Victor’s rapid breaths became slow and even once again. 

The place next to his heart throbbed as if his body remembered things his mind couldn’t. 

Resting his chin against a pile of parchment waiting for him to sign, Victor drifted to sleep. 

* * *

Two days and countless heated meetings later, a storm swept through the Kingdom. Thunder rumbled resonating with every heartbeat. 

Yuri threatened to challenge Yakov to a duel for keeping him from killing the demon ambassadors. 

Yuuri hadn’t returned. 

Victor’s stomach fluttered every time he thought he heard wingbeats in the rain. He left the window open. 

Except, this time a blue-eyed osprey and an eagle landed on the marble ground, glistening drops rolling from their ruffled feathers. 

With lightning reflexes, Victor reached for the ancient sword passed down through his family since the beginning of time, the air buzzing with magic deep within his veins. 

With a snapping sound, the demon empress with brilliant red mane and bellflower eyes stood before him. “We come in peace, in nothing but our own feathers and claws.” Demon royalty possessed powers to shapeshift into any form. Behind her, in place of the eagle, a young man took a protective step forward. 

Victor could fathom their relationship at first glance. 

“Go on.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Victor searched the musty stormy air for a pair of black wings. 

“First, thank you for guaranteeing the safety of my ambassadors,” Mila acknowledged. 

The shapeshifter guarding Mila with his life threw a venomous glare. 

Victor’s grip loosened from the hilt. 

“Georgi please,” Mila pleaded, “Victor Nikiforov, I have a proposal, an alliance to end this war.” 

Victor inhaled sharply, his stomach twisting in a knot. 

  
“After the demon king passed away, those loyal to him fled as my confidants freed me from the dungeon he left me in,” Mila never referred the late King as her father. 

Georgi’s thick brows furled. 

“I ask for you to take my hand,” Mila leaned against Georgi’s for support, her lips trembled. “Please Victor, I am tired of my kind dying as much as you are.” 

Victor’s eyes widened. His face stayed calm despite the storm brewing within, his heart ready to leap out of his throat. 

He could end this war. 

Scanning the corner of the room for dark feathers, he needed Yuuri more than ever before. 

His head throbbed as familiar wingbeats fluttered through the open window. Victor winced from the intensifying pain as fragments of the past flashed before his eyes. 

He began to remember.

Once upon another lifetime, he was the prince; Yuuri, his Wizard. Victor caught glimpses of stolen smiles, of lingering touches, and of the time they parted, when he begged his _ beloved _ Yuuri to end his life. He ached as he saw Yuuri leaving the lapis lazuli in secret. He watched Phichit freeing Yuuri from manacles. 

Then familiar wingbeats broke the silence. 

Yuuri landed on Mila’s shoulder. 

Victor knew the answer. 

* * *

After painstaking weeks of meetings with his advisors and exchanges with Mila’s ambassadors, Victor’s wedding day approached. 

Yuuri perched on his slumped shoulder by the window. With his beak, he ripped the longest feather from his wing and laid it in Victor’s palm. 

He soared through the window in the direction of the forest. 

_ Meet me there tonight. _

Victor knew. 

They didn’t need words anymore. 

Yuuri laid two silver coins on the merchant’s counter and carried a black cloak with his beak when no one watched the stall. 

He had long forgotten the sensation of the fabric against his naked skin. 

Knowing his lingering magic could not sustain this form beyond tonight, Yuuri didn’t care. 

Leaving his royal blue wedding attire untouched on the bed, Victor slipped away from the castle on the back of his faithful horse, Makkachin. 

Yuri watched Victor ride towards the forest from the highest spire. An orb of green light hovered above his palm, he breathed a wisp of magic into it. Yuri didn’t need to guess the reason Victor left the castle before his wedding. 

More than anything, he wanted to give his king peace. 

He raised the emerald light into the sky. 

With that spell, not a single Mage or Demon could enter the forest unless Victor desired.

* * *

“Yuuri.” 

At loss for words, Victor released Makkachin’s reins she trotted towards its calm azure surface of the lake painted with orange from the sunset. 

“My king,” Yuuri’s lips curled skyward. 

“Please, say my name,” Victor cursed his royal blood. He wished more than anything to be ordinary: a minstrel, a merchant, a traveling dancer, an innkeeper, anything but a King. 

“Victor,” Yuuri stepped closer and stroked his cheek.

Victor wished time would stop. His silver lashes fluttered shut as Yuuri rained kisses over the place between his brows, over his eyes, over his cupid’s bow, and over the secret place of his neck where his pulse throbbed out of control. 

Control. 

Victor never lost it until now. He learned to smile even though he wanted to throw certain subjects into a pit filled with vipers. General Yakov’s words reverberated through his mind: _ you are a king, Vitya, you must always wear the unfazed mask, calm as the eye of the storm, even as the rest of the world burned. _

With a hand, Victor muffled the involuntary sound escaping from his throat.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri’s laughter warm against his neck. “Let me hear you.” 

Victor let go. 

With every touch, visions from their past life flooded his eyes. 

“Yuuri, I should have told you that I - ” Victor began.

Yuuri pressed a finger against his lips in between kisses, “Tell me that the next time we meet.” 

Victor knew there wouldn’t be the next time in this lifetime. 

Makkachin grazed along the bank of the lake as the sun vanished over the mountain. Fireflies flickered like fallen stars in the forest floor around them. 

Not another soul could enter the forest tonight. 

Yuuri pulled back, his eyes downcast, “I’m afraid I don’t have long.” 

Victor’s fingers intertwined with his and squeezed. 

“Promise yourself to me?” Yuuri blushed shades of crimson. 

“For all our lifetimes,” Victor kissed his fourth finger. 

Yuuri nodded and rummaged through his cloak for a spool of thread. 

“I have always wondered about the promise ceremony in the demon’s way,” Victor grasped onto the invisible web of magic around them until blue flames erupted from the twigs at their feet. 

“I am half-demon, Victor. My father was a mage, and the best healer across the coast, and my mother, a shapeshifter who had the form of a snowy owl. She taught me the language of the demons in secret. She hoped someday the war would end,” Yuuri reached for him, “Now please, give me your hand.”

Yuuri began to sing in the ancient language of demons. The melody undulating like brooks and distant thunder in secret valleys. In all the years the demons and mage fought, these songs became forbidden. 

Victor’s lips parted. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off Yuuri. 

He wished tonight would never end. 

Yuuri wound blue strings around their interlaced fingers and whispered a phrase in the language of demons: _ I will always find you, till the day time ends. _

Yuuri laid Victor onto a bed of moss. 

Victor’s nails bit into his back leaving marks. 

In a tangle of leaves, cloak, heartbeats, and limbs, they joined without a beginning or end. 

Time lost its relevance. 

Victor’s bare chest heaved as the side of Yuuri’s face nuzzled his neck.

He ran his hands through Yuuri’s midnight locks. “Stay close to me, Yuuri.” 

“Always.” Yuuri draped his dark cloak over Victor’s bare shoulders. A new lightness filed his body, warm, light, the same airy feeling each time he changed into the crow. 

“Yuuri,” the night forest transformed into a hot blur before Victor’s eyes. “We will meet again.” His voice broke. 

“When the time comes, you’ll know,” Yuuri’s ghost of a smile lingered in midair, as he fluttered into the forest one last time. 

The last trace of magic raised him up.  
  
He became the wind under Victor’s sails. He became the midsummer ’s rain on Victor’s cheeks. He became the dew drops at dusk. 

  
He became nothing.  
  
He became stardust.  
  
He became everything. 

* * *

After Yuuri parted, Victor spent every waking moment occupied with work. Little by little the timid feeble threads of the partnership between the demons and mages began to form. 

Yakov had to restrain Yuri several times from burning a hole through the maps of the two kingdoms laid at the center of the stone table when the mages and demons discussed the boundaries. 

The castle also teemed with life from preparation for Victor’s wedding. 

When that day came, Mila stood next to him at the sacred altar of the mages with the flickering eternal flame with a headdress fit only for a fearless empress. 

Victor’s scanned the crowd for Georgi’s dark hair.

“He’s left,” Mila answered his thoughts. 

Around them, the demon priestess sang a familiar song. The melody undulating like brooks and distant thunder in secret valleys, a song Yuuri once sang, a song no longer forbidden. 

Victor interlaced his fingers within Mila’s slender ones as the demon priestess wound red strings around their hands. They exchanged a sad smile filled with a flash of understanding that love was a luxury beyond their grasp. 

They carried the weight of bringing peace at last. They carried the hope Yuuri’s mother had dreamed of. Victor assured Mila with a squeeze of her clammy palms that she would not bear this alone. 

Mila began their secret vow in the language of demons, her bellflower eyes transfixed with Victor’s as she whispered: _ I will learn to love you. _

And he echoed. 

* * *

Half a century passed since Mila and Victor’s wedding brought peace between the mages and demons at war for centuries. 

Victor treated the demon empress with nothing but respect and kindness. But she knew, while his faith for her unwavering, the spark in his ocean-like eyes were always meant for another.  
  
Yuri shut the curtain of Victor’s bedchamber one last time as a tear rolled down his cheeks weathered by wisdom. 

“My Queen,” Yuri embraced Mila, standing tall in her timeless glory. “He’s gone.” 

  
Mila kissed Victor one last time. 

His face was peaceful. 

Over the years they did learn to love one another. 

Within his hands was a single black feather, darker than tar, gleaming shades of blue and violet in her candlelight. Next to his heart, a stone he always wore: lapis lazuli. 

* * *

One hundred years passed since the passing of King Victor. 

The ports teemed with traders; traveling troupes frequented the market place to advertise for their next show. The marble statue of Victor and Mila, untainted by time, stood at the central square. Children played along the piers singing songs about the mage king and the demon empress. Some lyrics were in the language of mages, and others that of the demons.  
  
Rumors circulated about a mysterious figure cloaked in black, who happened to be either a famous healer or a dark witch-doctor, depending on who told the story.  
  
The Inn boomed with business, leaving an everlasting smile on Yakov’s stern face. “Vitya,” he wiped the counter. “Hurry up, the next guest is here.”  
  
“Coming.” Victor tied his long starlight locks back with a blue cloth ribbon. “Can I get you started with a drink? Some ale? Or perhaps apple cider?”  
  
The cloaked figure turned, a braided leather band across his forehead ending in a single feather darker than tar. 

  
Vitya clutched his left eye because of the piercing pain as if someone tried to hack his skull with an ax. Visions flooded him all at once. Of a stranger cloaked by night with a smile meant for him alone disappearing into the shape of a crow; of gentle hands and warm eyes; of a prince and his Wizard wishing they were nothing but ordinary.   
  
He held the table to steady himself as his body remembered things his mind couldn’t.  
  
“I’ll have two apple ciders, one for you, and one for me if you don’t mind.” The stranger who walked and breathed magic met his eyes.  
  
Crystalline tears poured from Victor’s eyes without a reason, as he blurted out, “This is going to sound strange, but have we met before?”  
  
The stranger’s dark lashes flutter with a hint of shyness, a hint of familiarity, and a hint of timeless mischief. A lapis lazuli hung next to his heart, making the beauty of diamonds lackluster. 

He wiped Victor’s cheeks, “My name is Yuuri.”

* * *

**Author’s note: **

Thank you for reading!

This is my piece written for Isekai zine.

I would like to thank [Dedica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dedica/pseuds/Dedica) and [PaintingWithWords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/pseuds/PaintingWithWords) for being my wonderful betas.

To the zine mods: thank you for all of your hard work and for giving me this opportunity to bring this piece to life. 

Much Love, 

-Antares

  



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